


Held Fast by your Will

by Pakeha



Series: Child of the Enemy [3]
Category: The Mummy Returns (2001), The Mummy Series
Genre: Bondage, Choking, Collars, Ephebophilia, M/M, Marking, Mounted Dildos, PWP, Prostate Milking, Restraints, Sex Toys, slight praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pakeha/pseuds/Pakeha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imhotep forces another feat of pleasure on Alex, this time with the help of a carved marble monstrosity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Held Fast by your Will

**Author's Note:**

> In Laid Low by Your Hands I mentioned that Imhotep made Alex ride a stone cock until it wrecked him. Someone expressed an interest in actually reading that so here it is.
> 
> As always im writing with an aged-up Alex in mind. Pedophelia isn't my thing, but age differeneces and power differentials are.
> 
> Also I know that's not really how prostate milking works but just board the suspension-of-disbelief train as best you can folks.

“Easy.” Imhotep’s deep voice rasps over Alex’s ears like the desert sands, hot and persistent and the boy whines around the two fingers the man has shoved into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. 

He hasn’t bitten down, not today, and Imhotep is pleased enough to sooth him, give him encouragement and steady instruction as he wraps his other hand around the boy’s waist and keeps pace, forcing him to descend at an even clip. The boy goes between sagging and unresisting to a squirming heap of trembling muscles, fighting him as best he can despite the fatigue which has settled deep in his muscles. 

It is night time, a moonless evening, and the stars are spread thick across the sky, the milky stretch of the galaxy smeared overhead. 

It’s cold, like only a desert night can be, and the little pink peaks of Alex’s nipples are pert and tight against the chill, his skin sweaty from exertion and goose-fleshed from cold. 

It has a lovely texture to it under Imhotep’s fingers and he spreads his hand wide, encompassing the space beneath Alex’s left ribs and his hip bone, smiling against the boy’s temple when the youth obliges him with a choking keen, arching into the warmth even as Imhotep continues to push him _down_ onto that _thing_ that he’d had several servants bring to them hours ago now. He’d had it set down in front of the boy for him to contemplate while he finished his evening meal. 

Alex had eaten very little indeed, his eyes round as saucers as he sized up the instrument. 

“You’re bloody joking.” Alex had manage to work the words out but his throat was dry enough to click when he swallowed. Imhotep had said nothing, eating casually next to youngest O’Connell, so close that the boy had felt the incredible heat which radiated off of him, even through his shirt, and what few morsels he’d managed to put in his mouth felt like ash on his tongue and he swallowed them without tasting. 

“No.” He’d grunted, pushing the plate aside, turning on his knees to face his captor more fully. The collar and chain around his neck glittered in the light of the small fire which sat in front of their tent. Imhotep tugged lightly on the end of the chain which was wrapped around his fist -not enough to unseat Alex but enough to serve as a reminder - and had continued eating as if the boy had never spoken.

“Fuck. No. I am _not._ ”

But he did. Of course he did. 

He’d made it as difficult as possible for the priest when he set aside his own empty bowl and began the process of undressing his prize, but in the end it had all been for naught. For all his twisting and thrashing his clothes had come off with little enough effort, and Imhotep had positioned him in the sand with his face towards the carved stone phallus he would be riding that night and slipped well oiled fingers into him efficiently, stretching him wide. The boy had braced himself on his hands and knees and scowled, anxiety and frustration warring within him while the priest made quick work of the task, not aiming for pleasure, just preparation. 

The pleasure came later. 

Imhotep’s smirk gains teeth as the boy begins to unconsciously pump his hips in quick jerking spasms, unsure as whether to pull away from the thing which was slowly, coldly, unforgivingly piercing him, or to embrace it. Either way the choice is not his to make, and Imhotep drives him ever more steadily _down_. 

“A beautiful instrument, is it not?” Imhotep murmurs sweetly against the boy’s ear. “No need for fear boy, in my hands, you will be made to endure such sweat agony.”

The tongue against Imhotep's fingers works at a response, lips flexing, but the only sound that is made is a gurgle. Saliva slides down the boy’s chin and the priest’s palm but Imhotep does not mind. He ducks his head and licks at the boy’s neck while he shifts his other arm to gain a slightly better grip on the boy as he reaches the end of his descent. 

When his ass meets the large base of cold marble, Alex jerks, and jerks again against the unforgiving stone phallus buried so deep inside him, radiating cold up into his body. The thing rubs against his prostate, too big to avoid it, and Alex twitches, violently, his arms half trapped at the elbow by Imhotep’s grip but forearms, wrists, hands free and _shaking_ ,tears spreading along his lashes because there is no reprieve, no end-

“Ride.” Imhotep commands, stroking the teenager’s tongue with his finger tips before shifting his hand _deeper,_ just a hair short of gagging Alex. “Take it deep, bury it inside you. Let it leach the warmth of your body until it scalds you, until it should re-forge you as it’s sheath, so you may know no other life than to sit on this cock and squirm as it relentlessly fills you. You cannot rest, you cannot flee, you must _ride_.”

Imhotep releases the boy’s waist and reaches down towards the golden cuffs attached to the device’s large stone base. He gives the bands a gentle caress before clamping them snugly around Alex’s calves, just beneath his sharply bent knees. They limit his range of motion to an up and down grind of his hips: If he could stand the pressing angle of the cock as it slid out, he could perhaps draw the phallus from his body by rising all the way up on his knees, but it would be challenge.

Restraints secured, Imhotep’s arm wraps around Alex’s waist again, steadying. The teenager is still twitching like he can’t help himself, too much inside him to keep still, too much, too much-

Imhotep slides his hand down to the boy’s hip and with a pleased sigh he starts to pull the boy back towards him. 

Alex tosses his head back and gargle out a _wail_. 

Hands grip onto Imhotep’s forearm viciously, shaking as the entire length of the thing presses against his internal walls, stretching his already overwhelmed passage to even more impressive measure. 

Imhotep relaxes the pull and lets Alex sob and quake for a moment before he wraps his hand under one of the teenager’s thighs and, in an impressive display of strength, hefts the boy up a few inches on the stone, unrelenting even as the boy shudders, babbling nonsense against his fingers, digging his hands into Imhotep’s arms-

Then he releases him, and Alex _drops_ with a yelp, sliding down the thick stone, clenching tight around it in an unconscious effort at control, drops of the copious oil Imhotep had pressed into him slipping from his entrance to pool around the base of monolith. Tears leak unbidden from the corners of his eyes and Imhotep hums softly, the thumb of the hand holding the boy’s mouth hostage massaging rhythmically at his pulse point, just enough for the young man to feel it in each gasping breath. 

“I told you to _ride_ , child.” He rumbles hotly and Alex whimpers, but haltingly, shakingly, begins to obey. 

“You will find your pleasure on this cock many times tonight.” 

Gibberish drips from Alex’s lips as his thighs shake, working his weight a few inches up the stone and then sliding back down in as controlled a fashion as he can muster. Every few passes though he tires, dropping faster than he means to with a yelp as the prick pushes harder against his insides than he anticipated, his prostate being thoroughly massaged. He sits for a moment half to regain some strength it seems and half to roll his hips in short, sharp jabs, circling without really meaning to, seeking greater stimulation, desperate to feel good, to feel filled up and held fast. 

Imhotep rumbles at his back, his own cock hard and aching and dripping pre-come against his abdomen, the dampness smearing on Alex’s back as the boy writhes and presses against him. 

“Like that, you do well-” He murmurs his praise quietly in the boy’s ear and Alex lets out a sob and begins to ride harder, pushes his limits, gets more adventurous as he pulls himself up a little higher, crying out at the unforgiving angle of the smooth rod inside him, before he slides down and lets it slam into him again, the stone owning him, uncompromising in its intensity. 

“Fuck yourself. Serve the stone as you would serve me, my prize.”

And Alex does. Damn him, but he does. He fucks himself harder and harder until his thighs burn and his chest aches and his cock is angry and drooling steady spurts of pre-come against his quivering belly and between his spread thighs. 

Imhotep laughs low and keeps one hand in Alex’s mouth but releases him with the other so he can begin to stroke himself at Alex’s back, lifting his fingers wet with fluid every so often to trail them over the boy’s spine. 

Alex’s vision begins to silver out at the edges as he pants for more and more oxygen, his body burning as his prostate is aggressively stroked and jabbed and _pressed_ , orgasm riding up on him fast and the priest’s fingers are so far in his mouth he feels like he’s almost swallowed them, like if he closed his eyes he could almost be servicing two men at once and a bolt of desire rips through him unexpectedly at the thought. 

He keens as he comes so close to the edge, bouncing desperate and needy on the stone, unable to ride evenly as his pleasure swells. With a chuckle at his ear Imhotep wraps his arm around his hips again and Alex isn’t prepared for it when the man begins to guide him. Like a filly that needs to be broken to the saddle he commands his movements, pushes and pulls and makes Alex stay on the spots which feel like too much until they _are_ too much and the boy is too breathless to cry out as his orgasm begins to boil out of him like it _burns._

It’s not the bright singing thing he felt when Imhotep first drove into him and made him take a cock for his pleasure, it’s a long and pulsing thing that comes in waves and thick rushes of come pooling out of him and for the first time in the night Imhotep reaches up and takes a hold of his prick and it’s too much, a bolt of intense pleasure blazes through him, making every muscle tense and strain, leaving his hips and thighs tingling, his vision whiting, his hoarse, choked throat straining to cry as he jerks helplessly into Imhotep’s hand. All the while the man murmurs his quiet approval into the boy’s ear. 

“Well done. You’ve produced so much, how sweet a thing.”

Alex sobs and sags even as his hips continue to twitch helplessly in the aftershocks. The priest lets the boy’s waist go and returns to seeking his own completion, fisting his cock rapidly at Alex’s back, eager to paint the pale flesh with his seed. Shivers wrack the boy’s frame and his head is a dead weight against Imhotep’s hand, like if he pulled his fingers out the teenager’s skull would slump forward and never pick itself up again. The priest presses down on the boy’s tongue fondly, and works his hand more rapidly, squeezing harder until with a sigh he finds his pleasure. 

There’s a shudder from Alex when the man’s scalding come splatters over his spine, but he doesn’t try to move away. His hips stay still save for the little twitching jabs he can’t seem to help, knowing well that he is held fast until his master says otherwise. 

Breathing deep to steady himself Imhotep feels a swell of proud pleasure rise in his breast. He moves forward to plaster himself more fully along O’Connell’s damp skin, one hand pressed over the boy’s heart as he finally finally finally pulls his fingers from Alex’s mouth. 

The boy chokes as they pull away, coughing and trying to swallow the rush of saliva which follows. Imhotep pets his throat once to soothe him, before he moves his spit slick hand down the boy’s body to fist his limp cock. 

Alex jerks at the sensation and lets out a grunt, eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of sensation. 

“No more-” He manages choke the word out with his newly freed tongue but Imhotep just turns his lips to the boy’s shoulder and grants him a kiss.

“Yes, more. So much more.”

And without hesitation, Imhotep begins again.


End file.
